p00frog

I don't usually jump in on most of the arguments circulating around the Fox4 blog sphere. It's not my style ... but I couldn't help it with this one.

I'm a non-smoker. And like most non-smokers, I don't like the smell of cigarette smoke ... but get me a cigar, and that's a horse of a different color. Even then, I only smoke cigars on rare occasions, such as the birth of a child, or the Cowboy's winning a playoff game.

I can tell smokers to quit, but that would go over about as well as that fan who protested outside Valley Ranch and got a fistful of Bradie James. So for now, I simply choose to limit my time at places where people smoke. That usually nixes bars and billiards from my list of frequented establishments. Sad day.

I was at Victory Park to bring in the New Year, and aside from getting crammed together like tuna, and people spitting on us from the W Hotel, the most rude act of all was from the people who wanted to light up in the middle of it all. I almost added, "Poke more people in the eye" to my list of resolutions.

But should the government intervene on my behalf? They have before, and on lesser terms. Google active 911 calls in the city of Arlington and you'll usually see at least one call about noise violations. You want to talk about encroaching on someone's rights: talk to the guy who was told to turn down his car stereo, or pull up his droopy drawers in Dallas.

Second hand smoke is a proven hazard; more so than an obnoxiously loud stereo, or someone's Scooby-Doo underpants. So when it's my health or the scent of my brand new EXPRESS for men button-up cotton woven that is jeopardized--the government is obligated to step in.

When that day comes, just remember you can still smoke in the privacy of your own home. You can also sag there. Heck, you can even forgo the pants altogether and smoke in your underwear. Just remember to keep the stereo at a low roar.

I decided to highlight 20 random things that happened in 2008. It's amazing how thankful this simple exercise left me feeling. These are numbered in chronological order.

1) At the beginning of the year (quite literally, it was only the 2nd day of 2008) someone driving a Dicky's catering van ran a stop sign not a mile from my house and totaled my truck, which was scheduled to be paid off a short 4 months later. Ugh. 2008 looked like it was starting off lousy.

2) But I think the receptionist at the collision repair center was into me. She was definitely picking up what I was throwing down.

3) I was hired as the editor-in-chief at the Collegian at TCC during the Spring. I wrote a column for the weekly paper, which helped land me a meeting with random fact #7

4) Road tripped to College Station for a journalism conference and unknowingly ended up at a gay club one of the nights I was there. Club Halo = not anything to do with geeky Xbox fans. Interestingly, an old friend from high school ended up in line behind me and my group at the club. She probably left thinking she had some gossip to bring back to Arlington ... and interestingly again, she is the sister of random fact #7

5) I got a handful of friend requests on Facebook from girls who read my column about "chivalry." That column nonsense was really paying off.

6) Was promoted at the water park I worked at. It challenged me. It stretched me. And I think I'm a better person because of it.

7) One of the Leads at work said he mentioned my name at school and a girl in the class knew my name. Nay, my title. Nay, my face ... from the school paper. That column nonsense was really paying off. Long story short, I had to investigate--so I laid down my game on MySpace and sent Rachael a friend request. "Say girl, can I get yo MySpace URL?"

8) 3 months later, Rachael and I started dating.

9) Summer was coming to an end, and I started looking for another job. I thought I found one as a PR intern at Six Flags, but a mock press release I sent in an e-mail got lost somewhere in the Internet. I didn't get the job, but that's OK. As a result, I was able to devote more time to writing.

10) Hired on as a contributor to The Shorthorn at UT-A. Good paper. It has won awards and all that jazz. It challenged me. It stretched me. And I think I'm a better writer because of it.

11) Summer was coming to an end, and a world-class resort, Atlantis the Palm, was opening in Dubai. They needed experienced lifeguards (of my caliber, of course) and offered me a 3-month long job. Ugh. What a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Long story short, because of prior monetary commitments at school, I didn't go. As a result, I was able to devote more time to writing.

12) I finally received my Associates in Arts with a focus in journalism from TCC. I'm a learned man.

13) Rachael and I dated throughout the summer and continued talking when she went away  to school at South Alabama for soccer. Sure, she was 600 miles way, but we couldn't deny the inevitable. After a month of separation we decided to date exclusively. She's a fantastic girl, I can't say enough good things about her.

14) With thoughts of Rachael and a longing to go to Dubai crowding my mind, I really wasn't feeling school at the beginning of the semester. I think I literally neglected a whole 2 weeks of classwork. As a result, I fell behind and subsequently had to drop Spanish. Luckily, I finally snapped out of my funk and was able to save the other 3 classes.

15) I got to sit alone at a table with Juan Williams and ask HIM questions for a Q&A I was writing for The Shorthorn.

16) I covered the presidential elections at the Tarrant County Democratic watch party. It was a historic night, regardless of who you voted for.

17) I got a job as a Loss Prevention agent with a local retailer. It has so far challenged me, stretched me, and I think I'm a better person because of it.

18) In a long, grueling application process for news editor against two very qualified individuals, I was promoted to assistant news editor at The Shorthorn for the Spring semester. I'm interested to see how that unfolds.

19) Rachael continues to challenge me. To stretch me. To make me a more compassionate individual. And I think I'm a better person because of it.

20) It's 3 a.m., Dec. 24, 2008 ... and I still haven't finished my Christmas shopping.

In retrospect, 2008 might have started off lousy ... but it was the catalyst for something great. What 20 things happened to you this year?

After years of celebrating Christmas and hauling decorations in and out of the attic, it just occurred to me that Christmas probably provides the single greatest evidence for evolution.

How else would strands of lights, rolled tightly and placed snugly into large plastic tubs, get tangled after a year of sitting in the attic--untouched?

Evolution is not longer a theory ... it's a verifiable fact.

But considering it happens on Christmas every year, I'd say it's more like theistic evolution.

Can anyone tell me why there was a body on the southbound entrance ramp to 360 near I-30 last night, around 9?

Not long ago, I found myself strapped for cash when my seasonal position at a local water park ended with the onset of fall. 

I had a few items I could sell for some extra spending money, but not enough for a garage sale. I didn’t want to hassle with the auction of eBay, so I put a portable, car navigation system on Craigslist for $50. No hassle, no auctioning, no pay pal—if you want it, and you have the money, you got it.

The next day I checked my inbox and had some inquiries into the product. Naturally, I started with the first one. After all, it’s a rule I learned growing up—first come, first served.

The man seemed nice enough, and when I learned he lived near some major highways I also lived by, it made it that much easier.

I named some landmarks and gave him the liberty of choosing one that would best suit his fancy. PetSmart, he said. We gave one another a description of our vehicles and set a time.

“5:30?” I asked.

“5:30,” he said.

It was official.

It was easy enough to spot him. A pickup he had described to me arrived at the empty-end of the parking lot at exactly the same time I was pulling in.

We confirmed the others suspicions: yes, I am the one selling my car navigation. Yes, he is the one that inquired of it.

We shook hands, and continued with some casual conversation as we both walked into the dollar store to make some change.

He was easy to talk to—a nice guy who openly discussed, between drags of his cigarette, his reasons for wanting the navigation system. He also told me about his out-of-state trip to Mississippi he was taking the next day.

We mingled longer than was required for the short transaction, taking in each others company.

I wished him good luck with his ventures and his newly acquired toy. He wished me the same. Then we left the parking lot just as we had entered it, as strangers.

Six weeks later, I was in my driveway, fidgeting with my book bag in the passenger seat, when someone stole my attention from the corner of my eye.

My neighbor, a man I’ve never talked to—or hardly seen—in the three years he has lived there, was taking drags from his cigarette as he walked up his sidewalk to the front door of his home.

I turned my head even further to analyze his vehicle and to affirm my suspicions: the stranger I met just a month and a half earlier was my neighbor.

Maybe I should go say, ‘hi.’

While walking down the back alleys of a mostly abandoned street, I hear screams coming from an apartment complex via the adjacent business buildings.

The street lamps flicker, signaling years of neglect and ill-repair.

The only sign of life is the waste collecting on the curbs of the apathetic home owners and the screams that continue to haunt the neighbor's pounding ear drums as terror echoes through the brisk, night air.

And then all at once, silence.

But the silence doesn't last long as a door slams and the screams continue to get more violent with every heart-wrenching second.

I scale the short, picketed fence that borders the property. It was probably carefully painted white before it succumbed to the aging rays of the sun. The objects that lay strewn across the lawn are obstacles that seem to have almost intentionally slowed my pursuit.

There is no door; rusted hinges are all that remain to testify to its existence.

As I enter the house, I am greeted with the scent of chocolate, candy corn and pumpkin pie--scents that lend themselves to fond memories of my favorite past-time: Fall and the many holidays that accompany it ... and Christmas, too ... even though it lands in the winter.

However, my meet and greet with the past abruptly ends as the screams wind down the spiral staircase. In haste, I make my way upstairs. Boosted by adrenaline, I ascend the three stories with ease. I bust into the only room on the third floor that sits atop the staircase. Standing alone in the corner is a tall, pudgy figure looking frightfully at the floor.

Fighting the air, I attempt to find any light source that will illuminate the room, but I find none. Instead, I rely on the glow of my cell phone.

As I approach the figure in the corner, I see the numbers 240 on the ground. This seems to be the source of the persons anguish.

Perplexed, I ask what the numbers mean.

"It's...," she says sobbingly, "my weight."

As we celebrate Halloween, we also dawn looser clothing to combat the onset of Fall and the colder air that comes with it. Football and Halloween kick start the season of bad eating habits. As such, one of the most frightful things this season--amongst the little goblins, ghouls and vampires that encroach our lives--might be the weight that we pack on as we participate in the fun and excitement that is the holidays.

But take heed and be cautious: After the last present is opened, the final ham eaten and the last Christmas tree disposed of--Summer is only a short 6 months away. And while your New Years resolution list might be topped with, "get fit", how often do you actually keep it?

If I had a terror alert that was color coded, this would probably rank red. Because when June hits and you try to fit into that bathing suit...

well, don't say I didn't warn you.

Happy Halloween.

Thought this might make us smile during the week before elections. Why don't we put aside our differences just to say hello?

---

Amidst the rhythmic patter of shoes striking the pavement on the Central Library mall, Thomas Deak’s voice pierces the otherwise solemn morning with a cheerful greeting.

 “Good morning, great to see ya!” he says to passers-by. “Hello, good to see you again,” he tells another. “Hello, Mr. Hello!” someone shouts back.

Students walking by the Central Library between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. have probably experienced Deak’s waves, smiles and salutations.

Some students return a smile and a nod with a curious glance; some ignore him altogether. Still others choose to strike first, offering a hand or a hug before he manages to greet them.

The sociology graduate student has been at his usual spot since early October. A few weeks ago, he decided the campus was missing something: politeness.

“I was walking around, and it occurred to me nobody was saying ‘Hi’ to each other,” he said. “We’re all so hurried, we don’t allow time to be polite to one another.”

That’s when Deak decided to take matters into his own hands, literally, by waving and practicing what he calls “disobedient politeness,” being polite when it isn’t required.

Continued at The Shorthorn ...

With the presidential election looming, bipartisan voter registration groups are hoping for a last minute surge in registered voters, but an increasing percentage of the population plans on exercising their right NOT to vote.

When voters go to the polls in November, experts predict a record turnout for what many perceive as the most decisive election in decades. Still, it is the election’s significance that Tarrant County resident Greg Duncare says makes his non-vote count the most.

“In most elections, my vote doesn’t matter anyway,” he said. “But when you get into these big, bad important elections, well, the world looks at me for an answer, and I say, ‘nope, not here.’”

Duncare has not always taken this apathetic approach to voting. He was an avid voter until the 2004 Presidential election when he calculated the results and determined votes were actually being cancelled out.

“In Iowa for example, 746,600 people voted for Bush, 733,102 voted for Kerry – when you do the math, only 13,498 votes really mattered,” he said. “I say we find those same people and just count their vote in 2008!”

It isn’t just Duncare who is catching on to the cancelled-vote effect. The movement is sweeping across the nation with people actively taking part in not voting. Some are even going so far as to dawn bumper stickers that say “don’t blame me, I didn’t vote.”

Not all non-voters are absolutely apathetic. Texas Christian University graduate George Plansitout does favor a particular candidate, but instead of driving to the polls, he calls up a buddy he knows is supporting the opposite candidate and they agree not to vote.

“It’s better for the environment this way. Neither of us is on the road polluting the atmosphere – but the results are exactly the same as if we had gone,” he said.

Many are concerned the approach is open to abuse and deceit. Last election, Plansitout said there was a rumor circulating that a Republican called five known Democrats and made individual agreements with each not to vote. But in November, the Republican went to vote, and the five Democrats stayed home.

“That’s disgusting,” Plansitout said. “Absolutely disgusting. He’s taking advantage of the system and giving us non-voters a bad name.”

The cancelled-vote-effect has brought attention to more than just not-voting. The movement has many rights activists wondering if non-voters are exercising any rights at all. If not, who or what determines when rights are used?

“The definition of exercising your rights is to actually do something ...,” said community organizer Allen Greensboro. “So if we were to go off that definition, I would say no, people who do not vote aren’t actually exercising any right whatsoever.”

Community activist Lucas Handstand disagrees.

“I think rights are defined by the government,” he said. “The government guarantees freedom of expression. By not voting, these citizens are expressing themselves, thereby exercising that right.”

With such a broad definition of rights, though, parents are concerned the non-voting movement will eventually take root in public schools.

“Just yesterday, my son Charlie declared he wasn’t going to do his homework,” an Arlington parent said anonymously. “When I got onto him, he said he was expressing himself and threatened to contact the ACLU if I encroached on them.”

Not all hope is lost – the same parent said if nobody else votes, she will, and her elected officials appoint judges, who have recently taken on a legislative role. Although a legislative role is not outlined for judges in the constitution, the parent said her elected officials will change the constitution, too.

“If they don’t want to vote,” she said. “I’ll do it. It would even be better if the government gave their non-votes to me so mine would count more.”

Her local officials are considering it.

Between advocates trying to lower the legal drinking age by three years, and those in favor of raising the driving age by two -- there are some questions that remain unanswered -- namely, what are we thinking?

Should both of these initiatives pass, the big 1-8 would be the most anticipated birth date in of all time. Before, teenagers had "checkpoints" to aspire to. And depending what they coveted most (driving, beer, smokes, or porn) determined which birthday would be the most celebrated.

Personally, I never lusted over a drivers license. Probably because the vehicle I was inheriting was a big, brown turd. And by turd I mean 1980s Diesel Suburban. The speed limit on the highway was about as fast as it could go anyway, but it was getting up to that speed that proved most time consuming.

Then I got a relatively new pickup.

And along came the tickets. The most severe being an 89 in a 60 ... I was 18.

It wasn't until I was 20 that my foot became a little bit lighter. Gas prices were on the rise, and I simply did not want to dole out cash for traffic citations.

Driving is undoubtedly a big responsibility to give to anyone of any age (there are some 30-somethings I think we should get off the road), but how much of a difference will two years make, really?

If we change anything, perhaps instead we should enact stiffer punishments for minors caught violating traffic laws. Most people have money they can throw at a ticket, and even more teens have time they can waste in a defensive driving course -- but the thought of a drivers license suspension lingering in the back of my mind at 16 would have proven more effective in keeping me operating within the law.

But if our legislative pundits have it their way, don't be surprised if we have more 18-year-old drunken drivers getting in wrecks because they were smoking a cigarette to calm their nerves after driving alone for the first time, while also trying to keep their eyes off the newly purchased porn tempting them from the passenger seat.

Okay, so that's a stretch -- but so is thinking an 18 year old will be that much more of a responsible driver.

As an aspiring journalist, I often feel obligated to harp on what is going wrong in the world. “Why can’t we put a positive spin on things, why does it always have to be so negative?” I often find myself wondering. “Why can’t we shed light on what good is in the world?” 

Alas, this is that spin.

Gov. Sarah Palin’s 17-year-old daughter is in the news for being unwed and 5 months pregnant. The media thinks this will some how tarnish her image. Ironically, that very same media, just a few short months ago, praised Jamie Lynn Spears for being in the same predicament. This is the quickest I have ever seen the media develop righteous balls. Now it’s suddenly taboo to give birth outside of wedlock. The scandal!

Anyway, I’m sure you’re wondering what good can come of this? The baby, of course! Everyone likes babies. On a scale of 1 – 10 (10 being most positive), babies are an automatic 7. Ugly babies only register 3 points.

Gustav evacuees returning home this week are forgetting one thing – the family pets they left their homes with and brought to Dallas. Where’s the logic in that? In their haste to evacuate their homes, they accidentally saved the life of the family dog that they hated anyway? This sounds like a story full of terrible Louisianans who don’t care for their pets, which is mostly true. But the good news is Dallas residents absolutely adore pets, especially cute ones. On a scale of 1 – 10, cute animals are an automatic 6. They would receive a higher grade if they were able to respond to cooing and gaga noises, but they can’t. They do, however, respond to “hey there buuuuddyyyy (the “y” dragged out for emphasis),” and, “who’s mommy’s little angel? That’s right! (“that’s right!” is to be repeated 6 times in succession, or until the animals head explodes from an overload of sheer joy). If the animal's head explodes, all points accrued are to be deducted ... and the story loses it's positive spin value.

At least I tried.

I was eager to watch Palin's speech this evening.

But that doesn't make me unique. The rest of the nation, I'm sure, was just as anxious to see it.

Still, waiting for Giuliani to leave the stage to make room for this politically unknown  was ... refreshing, to say the least.

Her eyes smiled, and her appeal captivated many. But it wasn't merely her charm, it was also her sincerity.

During her speech, she talked a lot of her family. But she wasn't doing it for showmanship. She was proud of them, and they of her. Later in her speech, she spoke matter of factly about energy independence and taking an honest and humbling approach to politics -- and then, what makes a good leader.

But of the qualities she listed -- one of them, though probably overlooked by many, might very well be the most important testament to her character.

Servant hood is an idea devoid of meaning in our culture. It's not a sexy term, and especially not one glorified in television or the movies. But a "servants heart," as Palin called it, has been lacking for far too long in our leadership.

As for her inexperience ... must Texans forget about another refreshing, unknown who came to Dallas from the North, Tony Romo? Sure, he botched some plays -- but he also revalitized and energized a bland and boring franchise.

Am I really comparing politics with football? Yes, and unapologetically.

Politics needs a face lift. And who better to give it than a woman.

18-year-olds are responsible enough to vote, to enlist in the military and to marry without parental consent … but not old enough to drink?

It sounds like a righteous argument – but is it really?

First, we must consider that these comparisons don’t even play ball in the same field. 18-year-olds don’t poison their bodies by voting too many times (as I understand it, your vote only counts once, doesn’t it? In some states, even if you’re dead)

Enlisting in the military is a serious commitment sometimes requiring weeks of counsel.

A game of beer pong may last 15 minutes.

And marriage, though it can also be jumped into without much thought (does “we were drunk” sound familiar?), is at least a commitment arranged by two, hopefully consenting, parties. And if alcohol does turn out to be a contributing factor in a shotgun wedding, the marriage can always be annulled (see: Britney weds in Las Vegas).

I could go dig up some research that spouts how many people have died as a result of underage drunken drivers – but such arguments have never appealed to me. Last time I used statistics as a foundational argument I was called names and banished from the playground by the other third graders. They didn’t like my presentation on how, statistically speaking, 24 cats probably did their business in the sandbox the night before.

“The very sand you currently have your hands in,” I told the young, naïve ears perking up at me, “has been, at some point or another, pooped in, on or around; if not by the neighborhood cats, then by Jill Macintosh.” (Jill was known around the playground to be portentously overblown.)

They then proceeded to throw some mysteriously-held-together clumps of sand at me. To this day I have not fully recovered.

But if I don’t use statistics, what then? Consider that myself, and my associates, were all at one time 18 years of age. Then consider the foolish things we did at 18 (too many to list here), and you are essentially left with a lopsided argument in favor of the current law.

Unless 18-year-olds have grown incredibly more mature in the few years since I was 18 – it is in our country’s best interest to keep the [legal] drinking age at 21.

I will, however, grant one exception. That exception being if an 18-year-old can stand in line at the DMV by themselves without any parental supervision, successfully pass a field sobriety test administered by the office clerk while sober (that’s you, not the clerk); the aforementioned, upon successful completion, will thereby be granted a 3 year stipulation in excess of his or her current age at the time of testing, thus rendering any law void and obsolete.

We all know those dagum field sobriety tests are impossible to pass anyway. Let’s utilize them to their fullest potential, fool the 18-year-olds into thinking there is hope for their cause, and we can go on being the responsible, over-the-legal-age citizens that we are.

Now pass me a beer – I have election coverage I need to catch up on.

McCain's recent VP nomination has strategy written all over it. But there again, in the history of presidential elections, has there ever been a successful campaign not wrought with decisive strategery? (I'm trying to get that word voted into the English language, feel free to use it.)

In the year 2008, I'm trying to be progressive. Which I guess means not basing my initial reactions to political news on shallow things ... such as race, gender, or the color of ones hair. But in the days since the black man has been regenerated into mainstream society, and women's roles have changed from, frankly, making dinner rolls -- I can't help but notice the very recognition of such things proves one thing: we aren't as advanced, nay, progressive, as we think.

Looking back on my high school days, the class clowns never talked about how clownish they were, the jocks never talked about how jocky they were, the geeks never talked about how geeky they were, and the beauties, okay, there is an exception to every rule. But for the majority, the aforementioned people never talked about who they were. They just ... were.

Now let me introduce you to politics, or any other philosophical field for that matter, where the motto seems to be: lets talk.

No, seriously. Talking is what these people live for. They talk, someone responds (talking),  they then try to trump the response (more talking), and then other people try to analyze and convey what is being said (even more talking). Which makes me wonder -- how does anything get done?

In my feature writing course I have been in for all of one week, I have learned one important attribute of writing isn't so much to tell the reader "Jane is a hard worker," but rather to show the reader Jane's hard working character as evidenced through her actions. The reader is capable of coming to their own conclusion about how hard working Jane is -- they don't need me to tell them.

This is why 2008 won't be the year of change. This is why 2008 won't be the year of the big man working for and relating to the common folk. Real change and revolution will occur when we least expect it. Real change flies under the radar, unsuspecting, because real change isn't chatty or noisy: it just is.

Okay, maybe someone can help me out ...

Last night around 9 pm I was driving northbound on 360 from I-20 when I came up on a car in the left and middle lane driving 40 mph.

Thought it was a case of road rage, based on the swerving by the vehicle in the left lane, or possibly a drunk driver?  I called the police, but since the cars were going so slow I didn't feel comfortable sticking around.

I pulled up on the shoulder and waited for them to get closer, and when they finally did I noticed there were now 3 cars blocking all three lanes of traffic at 20 mph. it was the most bizarre thing I have seen in my 8 years of driving. Traffic behind the three cars were bumper to bumper, and it looked like a slow-moving parking lot.

Can anybody tell me what was going on?

Okay, so I missed the story about the new elective being offered in public schools: the Bible. But then I stopped by to check up on the blogs, and I saw one by Dr. Moore. So, I commented it and went on my way.

Then I scrolled through some more blogs, and more than half on the first page were related to this story.

But why all the fuss? Some are saying that if we offer the Bible course, we also have to offer the Koran. But I call shenanigan's. A simple perusal of my historical American literature lends me to believe the Bible, not the Koran, played a large part in the building of our nation's foundations. That's not bias, it's straight up fact.

Religious discussion, particularly when it is centered around the government and public schools, tugs at the heart of all those involved, religious or otherwise. It obviously strikes a nerve, and I won't pretend otherwise. But don't let our passions cloud our good judgement.

There is only one good reason people should be afraid of this course, and it is the abuse of it via attempted indoctrination. But there are many worse things to worry about than whether a teacher, to kids who chose the course in the first place, is making claims about the Bible which are not testable nor verifiable.

And until I see as many Mosque's on street corners in Texas as I do Baptist churches, no other relgious text needs to be taught in our classrooms.